Our eyes remain latched over one another until the very last second before my lips fall to his and he moves his mouth over mine, steady and deliberate, a dream of a kiss that is diary entry worthy.
Confession: I may or may not still keep an active journal that lists the often mundane activities most of my days are comprised of. And tonight’s entry for certain will be one for the ages. Hell, this one entry alone will require that my journal be kept under lock and key until either Lex or I am in the grave, or it just might lead to a case of sororicide.
A groan comes from him, one that I can feel right through his chest, and a giggle brews in me as my arms wrap themselves around his sturdy, hard body. There’s something dreamy about this moment. This is far lustier, far more arousing than I imagined something deviant of this nature could ever be. At first, the notion of doing just this with a masked stranger was complete insanity, but after further evaluation, I completely understand the attraction.
A part of me sayslet’s get back to that Pleasure and Pain portal and make some good use of those ropes and whips they’ve most likely littered the place with. Oh, the perverted places we could go if only I was guaranteed a disease-free evening with Mr. Tall-Dark-Masked-and-Questionably-Handsome. And as odd as it sounds, I don’t really care how he looks beneath that mask. He’s drop-dead gorgeous in my book, sexy as hell, and the fact he has my pink parts quivering in record time is a testament to howcomelyhe is. I can’t help but smile into our kiss. That word always gets me.
His lips try to part mine, and as much as I want to deep dive into his mouth and explore his tonsils, my better judgment wins out. I pull back a moment to get a better look at him, and I fall hard into those drugged blue eyes.
He wants this. He wantsme.
I don’t think another human has ever quite looked at me like this before, and a part of me demands to oblige his darkest fantasies on every perverted level. And as I’m about to do just that, I spot a hot pink feathered head bopping to the music while her hands disappear to dark and twisted places south of that boy’s silly T-shirt.
“Oh, hell no.” I bolt over and yank Harley away from the roving pervert by way of her elbow. No sooner do I spin her around than I find that my masked man has been swallowed whole by darkness.
Crap. It’s probably for the best.
I haul Harley kicking and screaming out of the Panic Room, back down that garish red hall, and straight for the glaring exit sign where we turn in our masks before expelling ourselves into the hot, humid night.
“What the hell did you do that for?” Harley is still in full protest mode as she buttons up her jeans.
“Geez!” I shriek at the sight of her pink panties. “That’s exactly why I did it. You should not be exposing your cotton candy panties to anyone! Definitely not to that meathead with a one-track mind. I’ve heard rumors!”
“I’ve heard rumors, too! About howboringyou can be.” She pouts all the way to my car.
“No, you haven’t,” I’m quick to protest. I happen to know firsthand the only rumors floating around about myself have to do with my curt and caustic personality, and I like it that way just fine.
“Okay, so I haven’t.”
We hop in, and I start the engine, throwing it in reverse as if we were peeling out after a bank heist gone wrong.
Harley pulls down her visor and checks her lips in the mirror—as she should. Tyson most likely has the ability to make them fall right off. I bet his superpowers involve incurable strains of STDs. Ten bucks says she’ll be blanketed in cold sores come morning.
“Did you at least manage to have some fun?” Her voice pitches as she says it.
“Yes. I mean,no. It was—I don’t know. Weird.” I look in my rearview mirror as the club grows small in the distance, and I wonder about that masked man. “I guess you can say it was a little more interesting than I thought it would be.”
“Good. We’ll go back next Friday. They say if you find someone you like—”
“I know. You come back the same day, same time the following week. I was in the briefing room right along with you.”
“So, we’re going back?”
Those heated kisses come back to me, igniting a fire deep inside my belly, and I swear on everything good that I can feel his lips over mine as sure as if he were standing here.
“We’re going back.”
What the hell.
This summer cannot get any worse.
It can only go up from here.
God forbid that I’m the one that ends up in the morgue next.
Hallowed Grounds is Whitney Briggs’favorite coffee shop that happens to serve the best and the biggest red velvet waffles I have ever seen in my life. The shop itself is adorable inside with all the required WB regalia to qualify it as school spirit central. The air is thick with the lush scent of roasted beans, and the place is packed with students hunched over their laptops, sucking off the free Wi-Fi while sucking down their pricey lattes.
“Mmm,” Sunday moans as she indulges in another bite. I’ve watched as she heroically polished off her plate of red velvet wonders and half of mine. To say she’s indulging herself during this special time in her life would be an understatement. “Don’t look at me like that.”
